Everything
by GundamDelta6
Summary: Songfic to "Everything" by Michael Buble. Response to a challenge. Full summary inside. Hacy.


Title: Everything

Category: House, M.D.

Pairing: Hacy (House/Stacy)

Genre: Angst

Set: About 5 years before the Pilot…

Rating: I'm thinking…PG-13, just to be safe

Summary: My take on the Hacy breakup. Full of angst, Stubborn!House and Guilt-Ridden!Stacy...Written for a songfic challenge on a board I admin on.

Author's Notes: I am fully aware that the song used here is a love song, and this is a break-up fic. I am using the song to illustrate what _was_, not what _is_. It's a counterpoint, if you will. Makes the story more heartbreaking, I thought. And if you aren't crying, or even feeling slightly sad by the time you get to the end...Well, there's nothing I can do but try harder next time.

* * *

The sun shone through the curtains, creating dappled shadows across the wood floor. It was early enough to still be called morning, but not quite late enough to be an afternoon. Only one of the two occupants of the apartment was up and moving around at the hour of ten forty-five. The other wasn't to be allowed to leave the bed if his partner had anything to say about it. Not that that stopped him.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled himself up, wincing slightly, but not making a sound. It didn't matter anyway. She was there in a heartbeat. Every time he moved, it seemed, she'd come back to 'check on him'. He had to laugh at that thought. More like play nursemaid…

"What do you think you're doing, Greg?"

_You're a falling star_

_You're the getaway car_

_You're the line in the sand_

_When I go to far_

Sighing heavily, he looked up, meeting her dark eyes. What did it look like he was doing?

"I'm sitting, Stacy." His voice had an edge of annoyance to it. He was fine. She couldn't make decisions for him. She wasn't a doctor. She couldn't make him stay on bed rest. "There's nothing wrong with sitting. As long as I don't put too much weight on my leg for another few days…" He was just repeating what they'd told him as they were leaving Princeton-Plainsboro. Stacy wouldn't argue with them then, wouldn't argue with him now.

_You're the swimming pool_

_On an august day_

_And you're the perfect thing to say_

Sighing, she turned away. Went back to her work. As soon as she was out of sight, he fell back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. He'd been bed ridden for only a few days, and he was bored. But there was nothing he could do about it. Why couldn't Stacy see that he was _fine_? He had painkillers. He could walk…sort of. He knew she was just doing what she thought was best.

_And you play it coy but it's kinda cute_

_Oh when you smile at me you know exactly what you do_

_Baby don't pretend that you don't know it's true_

_Cause you can see it when I look at you_

But he had to be honest. It was getting a little annoying. He wasn't being allowed to do anything, and he hated it. She was a lawyer…she didn't know the first thing about medicine. But he knew if he pulled the "I am a doctor, you know" card, she'd tell him he couldn't override his attending's orders. And so that would get him nowhere. He wasn't even going to try it.

Turning his head, he eyed the orange prescription bottle on the nightstand and the metal support he'd been given when they'd left. Reaching out, he brought the bottle of painkillers closer. Apparently, even that movement was enough to bring his suddenly-overprotective girlfriend back to the room. How did she always do that?

"You know, you don't need to keep checking in on me. It's not like I'm going to make a run for the border as soon as your back is turned," he said, opening the bottle and shaking out one of the small white pills. Ignoring the half-full glass of water on the nightstand, he dry-swallowed the medication. "Not as if I _can_, at any rate…" There was obvious bitterness in his voice as he spoke.

_And in this crazy life_

_And through these crazy times_

_It's you_

_It's you_

_You make me sing_

_You're every line_

_You're every word_

_You're everything_

"I…" Stacy started, cutting herself off and taking a deep breath before trying again. "It was the best possible option. I did what I thought was best. I saved your life…" He glared at her, and she stopped speaking at once.

"There were other options," he said, setting the bottle back on the nightstand. "What you thought was best destroyed my mobility. And there was a decent chance my life wouldn't have needed 'saving ' anyway. We would have known when I came out of the coma." Ignoring the indignant sound Stacy made as he finished, he reached out again, taking hold of the hospital-issued cane. Pulling it toward him, he forced himself up and out, hating how he had to manually move his right leg over the side of the bed. Standing up for the first time in almost a week and a half (counting the days in ICU), he put all his weight on the injured leg, leaning on the cane. He hissed, and Stacy was immediately at his side, attempting to force him back into bed.

_You're a carousel_

_You're a wishing well_

_And you light me up_

_When you ring my bell_

"You shouldn't be putting any weight on that leg for another few days, at least," she tried reasoning with him. But he was having none of it. He turned to her, staring at her as if there was something about her that he felt compelled to notice.

"I'm the doctor here. I say I'm done with bed rest. Staying in bed isn't helping my leg any more than it's hurting it," he shot back, his clear blue eyes narrowing slightly. "The only thing that is going to help my leg is using it. Well," he amended, "using it as best I can." His look hardened into a glare with that.

"What did you want me to do, Greg?" Stacy asked, not knowing what else to say, what else to do. There was nothing else she could have done at the time, and the surgery had seemed like the best course of action. She'd thought, with time and convincing, he'd come to see it that way too.

_You're a mystery_

_You're from outer space_

_You're every minute of my every day_

_And I can't believe that I'm your man_

_And I get to kiss you baby just because I can_

_Whatever comes our way_

"I wanted you to do what I would have done," he answered, hardly sparing a moment to think about it. "I wanted to be able to use my leg again. There was a chance of that. But you took that away from me." There were still traces of bitterness, but it was shadowed over by some other emotion. One he couldn't quite put a name to. Sadness was inadequate. Betrayal almost covered it, but not quite. He gave up trying to figure it out when Stacy started defending herself.

"What would that have been, I wonder? Cross your fingers and hope for the best? Life doesn't work that way. Medicine doesn't work that way; you of all people should know that!" His accusation cut her deep. "That's what you feel, is it?" she asked softly. "That it's entirely my fault you can't use your leg?" His silence spoke volumes. He turned his head away, hiding his eyes, his feelings of betrayal.

_We'll see it through_

_And you know that's what our love can do_

"That's it, then," she said after a moment. She couldn't take the awkward silence. Couldn't handle the pained look in his eyes. Didn't know if she could deal with the guilt of knowing she'd caused it.

"Yeah, Stacy. That's it." He didn't look at her as he spoke, didn't turn his head when her shoulders slumped and she turned away. Didn't say a word as she started gathering her things. He couldn't. Couldn't meet her eyes, not after that exchange. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to look her in the eye again.

_And in this crazy life_

_And through these crazy times_

_It's you_

_It's you_

_You make me sing_

_You're every line_

_You're every word_

_You're everything_

She stood on his doorstep, hesitating. She didn't look back, didn't turn back. Everything she'd been keeping in his apartment, she had with her. A single tear slid down her cheek as she took up her baggage and left. She didn't even say goodbye.

He stood in his room, exactly as he'd been as Stacy had packed up. Silently telling him that it was over between them. He didn't know if he'd be glad she was gone, or if he'd be missing her within the next few minutes. He didn't care. She'd gone, and he hadn't done a thing to stop it.

_You're every song_

_And I sing along_

_Cause you're my everything

* * *

_Well...my first ever House, M.D. fanfic, finally complete. I spent about 7 1/2 hours on it, so I hope it's good. Please, let me know what you think...I crave your opinions!!!!


End file.
